We have had the most industrious day.
We have been as busy as a couple of workers in a Christmas tree light factory in October, the sort who only get paid piecework.
We have spent the entire day doing things and it isn’t over yet. In half an hour we are going to go to work.
I am feeling very happy with my world indeed.
We woke up early this morning, because we were in bed last night even before the time when I would usually start to think about coming home from work.
Last night, of course, we went to the Indian restaurant for Mango Butter Chicken, of which we practically licked our plates clean, for me because I haven’t eaten a hot meal since Cambridge unless you count porridge, and for Mark because he had had a long journey and got home to find that I haven’t quite baked any biscuits yet. I told him where the sausages were in the fridge but this morning he was sighing because there weren’t any, so clearly he hadn’t been listening, and I had to tell him again.
We almost went straight to bed after that, because we were so tired, but then we realised that in fact it was only twenty past seven, and so perhaps it was a bit early, and we collapsed into our armchairs and watched a film.
It was an ace film, recommended by my mother, called Conclave, about Catholics, and we were gripped the whole way through, and ate our way through about six pounds of the chocolates that we have still got left over from Christmas. I had Rosie on my knee, so between the two of us I think probably we had five and a half pounds of them. Also we finished off the bottle of the Indian Restaurant house red, and so by the end of it we could barely waddle round the Library Gardens for the late-night dog-emptying.
I had expected to feel absolutely dreadful this morning. You will recall that I have spent the last few months resolutely eating only things that are good for me, being yoghurt and porridge, fish and fruit, and neither chocolate nor alcohol has passed my lips, so obviously I imagined that such a massive surfeit of sugar and e-numbers would leave me practically bed-ridden and groaning.
Readers, I am very pleased to tell you that this was just about as far from the truth as it possibly could be.
I woke up this morning feeling fuller of beans, also red wine and chocolate, obviously, than I have felt for months. Mark offered to take the dogs to the farm so I wouldn’t have to trail over the fells with them, and I declined, because I felt so chirpy that I was quite looking forward to bounding up some steep hills.
This feeling of magnificent good health has lasted all day.
We didn’t have any more sleep than usual, and so I am at a loss to understand why such shockingly bad behaviour should even begin to result in a feeling of such beneficent well-being.
Anyway, I can recommend it. I still feel marvellous even now.
We bounced out of bed and Did Things.
Mark cut the ivy back from the windows, which were beginning to be rather alarmingly obscured, and I rushed round cleaning them all. Then in an excess of good spirits we did our next door neighbour’s as well, the ivy has got so shocking at his house that we found a surprise new window that we had forgotten he had.
We cleaned out the drains at the front of the house and washed the conservatory. Then Mark went to see what he could do for the poor camper van whilst I cooked sausages and chicken for his taxi picnics, and made sushi for mine.
The camper van now has a brand new battery and will start, although Mark said that the battery had not been as bad as that and that the problem had been the solenoid having come off the starter motor. I do not know what this means at all, but I am pleased to tell you that the solenoid has now been stuck back on to the starter motor and the van will now start after all.
He is in the shed now doing some things to the throttle cable. I do not know why, but it means that we now have a camper van which will not only start but will also accelerate and move.
All he needs now is to put some brakes on it and we will have a full set, as well as shiny clean windows and no ivy.
Things are looking very cheerful indeed.
Happy Tuesday.
PS. Isn’t the sunshine absolutely wonderful?
PPS. You can see one of our neighbour’s windows being obscured in the picture. That was not the worst one. The worst one had completely vanished.
